A Day at Home with Lynda

Ah, Lynda.

Lynda, Lynda, Lynda, you and those long, luscious legs of yours should have been registered as lethal weapons. Point in hand, so should the rest of your outstanding body. From the smoothness of your skin to that inviting smile, those mountainous breasts that so many would love to clamber over, to those mischievous, yet mysterious, eyes.

As far as I could tell, Lynda was perhaps one of the original internet models, predating the likes of Only Fans by, well, who really cares now? This was quite a few years ago now, ten or more if I recall, and names have been changed to protect the incredibly guilty. Suffice to say, Lynda was a queen of glamour making her money by enticing men to join her website full of pictures of herself in various expensive outfits.

There was always a theme of being well dressed, as if she was off to work in a high end bank where the walls were no doubt covered in expensive dark wood panels where grandfather clocks could be heard ticking the seconds away. And that was just her casual wear. Other shots would have this beautiful goddess of a thirty something in outfits clearly meant for a fancy day out sipping champagne at the races, and probably stealing a lot of attention from the husbands of more conservatively dressed, jealous wives.

Other sets she wore less, exposing her lingerie to some degree, often in what appeared to be in expensive hotels, private residents, stately homes and what might have been the houses of parliament! The photoshoots would get more and more revealing, going from teasing to flashing, from stripping to dancing. She'd even post videos of herself dancing slowly in whatever outfit she had chosen, always something tight yet loose enough to let her grind her body slowly against the air as if were the form on an invisible lover.

And of course there was the obligatory sex video, everything from obligatory blowjobs, to tit fucking, to being spanked and her skirt (often leather) hoisted right up over her hips while some lucky bastard got to slide into her pussy, doggy style and make her moan and growl like a dog in heat! And she always took a hot load of cum in whatever hole was fucked.

Suffice to say, there was always a good reason to cum back to Lynda's site.

Then it got even better.

She started running a lottery for one lucky fan to spend a day with her. Tickets were a mere £1000 a head.

Are you hearing alarm bells already? I certainly was. £1000 is still a fair amount of money to spend on anything, even in an economic crisis. Especially in an economic crisis. But this was years ago and at the time, things seemed... a bit more stable in certain regards.

The prize was to spend a day at Lynda's home, from 10am till 10pm, she would dress for the occasion as per the winners own request of what she had available in her wardrobe, and we would be treated to a tour of her home, including her wardrobe.

Reading between the lines I had to wonder just how many winners there might be in this lottery of hers, it was supposedly ran once a month with payment made via her site, but could there perhaps be more frequent 'winners' I wondered? Could she entertain a different winner each day for however long she could get away with it? Assuming she took the weekends off at least, she'd be looking at around £20,000 a month in extra income!

Or was it just a case of Lynda finding a genius way to part numerous fools from their money and have to do anything at all with any of us?

Still, as pricey as it was, it seemed to be the best way to at least get to meet her in person. I made my decision and a week later, I got an email advising me I had won, but owing to Lynda's busy schedule she only had one free day coming up the very next week. It also stated for legal reasons I needed to sign a waiver and NDA to never discuss the win or the events of the day. A bit odd I thought, but it did almost confirm some of my suspicions, and I sent off my agreement.

The glorious day came, I pulled into the large driveway and parked near a sporty, dark blue convertible, it's plates were only a couple of years old, and took in the surroundings. The house was large, a mix of modern styles with some village sheik to it. It might have been an older building with some conversions and upgrades, or a new build with faux age parts added on. I didn't get much chance to admire it longer as the front door almost immediately opened and out stepped Lynda.

She was dressed to impressed indeed. As requested she wore a short, form fitting leather skirt that stopped about two inches above her knees, while she wore a navy blue blazer, buttoned up with no hint of anything on underneath allowing a fantastic view, even from this distance, of her cleavage which could have caused car crashes if she'd went hitchhiking. Her slender legs were made to order, dark shinny stockings covered with an additional layer of fishnets stockings on top. Her hair looked freshly pampered, almost certainly dyed a few days ago giving how brightly her peroxide blonde curls caught the sun, and she looked at me through the narrow reading glasses I had also requested her to wear.

She was made to measure in every way I had requested. At least that I could see on the outside, bar her wedding ring which understandable she was never going to remove. She wore high heels of her own choice, the one thing I had told her to surprise me with, but these were only a couple of inches. That said she was a tall woman, at 5'10 even in flat shoes she seemed to have longer legs then most women I've met who were taller then Lynda. She looked a little older in person then she did in her pictures. She'd been somewhere in her thirties when she'd started, and that had been at least ten years before this meeting. But she still looked like one of the most beautiful woman that had ever graced the earth with so much as a blink of her eyes.

"Good morning," she cheerily welcomed me as I made my approach. "How did you find it? Easily enough?"

"The sat nav played some games," I smiled back. "But it still got me here on time." No sooner was I at her door then she stepped down and planted a light kiss on my cheek, it was enough to make me feel the sparks of desire eve stronger.

God, I was actually going to do it!

With her!

With Lynda!

In her own house!

"So, where would you like to begin?" she asked as we stepped through her porch and inside the main home. The insides were massive, as if someone had hollowed out the house to make a statement. As I craned my neck to take it all in I could see hints of there having once been a floor above us, but now there was a large, expensive looking chandelier above us, topped off with god only knew how many tiny little light bulbs. Replacing them all must have been a chore.

"I see you've had some work done on the place," I said, glancing back to Lynda who smiled back, apparently appreciating my observation. "It looks lovely," I added.

"Hmm, it does feel good to be looking up at that when I'm relaxing," she said as she locked the front door, leaving the key in. "Would you like to see the kitchen?"

"Why not?" She lead me to a narrow archway, it could have had a door installed if she'd wanted it, but it would have only made it harder to get through. As Lynda went first, her arms almost touched the sides, but I got to admire the sway of her hips and the way she crossed her legs like a catwalk model as she made her way towards the kitchen.

"What one word would you give this kitchen if you had to describe it?" It looked like it belonged in the countryside, maybe a hundred years or so ago. There were light brown cupboards with dark black marble tops all along the outsides, with a sturdy looking table in the middle. It was scarred from decades of use. But I recognised it from some of her shoots and one of her videos. It was an exceptionally sturdy table.

"Rustic," I concluded patting the table top. She smiled again.

"You know, you are the only person I've had in here whose said that," she said, perching her bottom lightly against the table top, her longs legs wrapped over one another as she crossed her arms, forcing her substantial cleavage more into prominent view.

"What do they normally say?" I asked, regaining eye contact.

"They utterly forget I asked for a one word answer and say something about testing the table."

"Did they get to test it?"

"Oh yes," and with that she uncrossed her legs, hitched up her skirt over her hips, smiling all the way and gave me an inviting wink. "Go on, be a dear."

Needing no further encouragement, I pushed the back of my hands along the insides of her knees and pushed her double layered stocking clad legs wider apart, taking a good look at the tempting treat of a target before me. Crotchless panties, always a winner. These were a lacey black number that were so see through I could see she had waxed her pussy hairs off. Bald cunt is the best cunt to my mind, it looks so extra naughty and almost always tastes like champagne!

Lynda moaned as I pursed my lips and blew cold air over her most private area, then I planted a little kiss on those sweet lips and teased her with a small barrage of kisses all over her pussy lips. My fingers pulled at the gap in her panties a little more before I started plunging my tongue inside her, really getting a good taste of her before I started sucking away at her her pussy lips as if I were a vacuum cleaner.

Quite literally a wet/dry vax. She just kept getting wetter no matter how much I sucked or licked at her lips. I tried an old trick of mine an old FWB taught me worked on her, and I sucked Lynda's lovely clit free from its hood, then lightly trapped it with my teeth and started the delicate job of gently nibbling at it.

"BASTARD!" Lynda yelled in shock, it sounded like her head had dropped behind her body. A second later, I felt her juices squirt all over my face while Lynda's body went into a wild spasm akin to an exorcism! She just screamed as she creamed all over me while I kept at it, nibbling at her clit while my hands tried to keep her from rocking and rolling too much. I didn't want to bit the damn thing off all.

"Jesus! Fuck! Christ! God! Ahhh!" were the only words she made that I could make out before her legs slammed against my head, blocking off most sounds as she squeezed those perfect pins of her in an almost vice like grip. I'm not sure if that was meant to stop my ministrations or make me keep them up. "Okay, stop, stop, I'm far too sensitive for that now! Please!" Reluctantly, I stopped my gentle biting, but gave her clit a parting, teasing flick of my tongue.

Lynda let go of my head from her near death grip with her legs. That certainly given me ideas about other things she might be able to do. I certainly have never witnessed her do anything like that leg trick in her videos. She kept herself upright on the table as I stood up, panting to herself, chest heaving, tempting me to burry my face between those wonderous mounds, but for now, discretion was the better part of debauchery.

"Where did you learn that?" she gasped.

"No one ever tried that with you before?"

"Jesus, no." She looked me up and down. "Did I do that to you?" It was at this point I realised just how much cum she had squirted all over me. It wasn't just my face that was soaked, but my dress shirt and even my trousers were slick with her love juice. "You can't go around like that," she said in genuine shock. I sampled some more of the goods with a finger and licked it off, never once breaking eye contact. Then offered her a taste, which she greedily accepted as if it was a lolly pop.

"Like a taste of yourself?"

"God, I taste good," she smiled, still holding my finger between her lips while her tongue lapped up her juices. "But take your shirt off, and your trousers, I'll get them in the washer and they'll be dry by the end of the evening." She jumped up off the table and looked at her own crotch as she tried to walk. "Well, it looks like my panties are a mess, as much as my cunt is." I had to admit, with her prim and proper accent, the way she said 'cunt' sounded like magic to me. "These are not going to be comfy to walk around in."

"How much do you like those knickers?" I asked.

"These? Well, truth be told, they were a cheap pair. Kind of ruined now if you ask me. I've never came like that before." I ripped them off her, snapping the elastic in two places then dangled them in front of her, bathing in the look of surprise on her face.

"Mine now then, be a nice memento," I smirked as I brought them to my nose for a sniff. "If you have a bag I can put them in it would be appreciated." She looked confused at first, then caught on quickly and pulled open a drawer before passing me a resealable bag.

"That might be a new money maker for me," she almost giggled as she started to adjust her leather skirt back to normal.

"No! Leave that," I insisted as I sealed the bag and put it in my coat pocket. "Skirt back up above your hips."

"But, someone might see," she insisted with a coy smile.

"Only me here, and if someone else can see they can't touch, can they?"

"True," and with that, Lynda pulled her skirt back up over her skirt, putting her hands on her hips to emphasis her naked, exposed cunt, used, dripping, gleaming, and ready for more. "Now, take off your shirt, young man, now your trousers. Goodness, what a big bulge that is..." An almost guilty look crossed her face. "That's right, you've not had a chance to cum yet, have you?"

"Good things will cum in time," I told her as she looked over my almost naked body. She looked like she wanted to run her hands over my pecs and complement my gym sessions. She slinked her way over towards me, crossing her legs in her catwalk run manner, then sunk to her feet and scooped up my discarded clothes, then walked to her washer in much the same manner. It looked, absurdly provocative, watching her walk like that while her skirt was hitched all the way up around her waistline.

As she bent down once more to bundle the load into the machine, I very much wanted to bundle my own load deep inside her very tempting target of a pussy from behind. There was of course one reason I did not. One more stipulation her email had insisted upon.

Condoms.

Of which I had brought some, which were in my trousers. Lynda was of course one step ahead of me as she had already emptied my pockets of their contents, placed them on the jet black counter top and once the machine was roaring away, she looked back at me, and coyly held up the condoms.

"I love a man who's prepared for cuming," she said sweetly.

"I love a woman who can squirt for England!"

"Ha!" she squealed. "I bet you want to take me from behind right now?"

"You read my mind," she tossed me the first condom.

"Put this on, and you can."

I was beside her in a second, my underwear sent flying god only cared to know, my hard cock slapping around in every direction before I grabbed it and slipped the condom on, slapped Lynda on her butt, pushed her down by the small of her back, lined my cock up with the slick entrance to her pussy and just pushed it all in with not a care in the world.

"AHHHHHHH!" Lynda shrieked, grabbing her mouth with her hands to muffle her cries. "Jesus, man, not so-" I pulled out almost all the way then thrust in to the hilt, my balls slapped against the side of the bench. "Eager! AHHHHH!" I pulled out again and slammed it back in before just pushing it and holding it as far in as I could, as if I thought I might be able to get even deeper than this. Before, when I had made her cum when I'd nibbled her clit, I'd had the aim of making her feel as good as possible, I wasn't quite so concerned about making her cum this time around, as I had a feeling she was going to no matter what.

"OHHHHHHHH!" Lynda moaned as I started making lots of little thrusts inside her, barely pulling out at all before smashing my body in to hers. I could barely hear the washing machine over the sound of our bodies slapping against one another and her screams of pained pleasure. Her kitchen had brilliant white tiles all around the walls, almost polished to a perfect reflection, and I could see in her face in those tiles, the look of utter enjoyment.

"AHHHHAHHHHHAHHHHAAHHHHHAHHH!"

Part of me wondered if she'd like to take it up the arse. I'd never seen any pictures or video of her doing so, It might have been a taboo she wasn't in to, but I did recall talking to another fan of hers who had claimed he'd seen a set of her with two men, so who knew what else she might be into?

"OhhhhhhhhhhhhhGodThatFeelsBigger!"

Fisting? Again not something I'd seen her do, but that didn't rule it out. I had made a couple of woman in my time fisting converts after all. And both fisting and anal were likely to get her to scream the place down even more then she was doing already. Still I did have another idea.

"OHMFPH!" she called out as I pushed in once again, wrapped my arms around her and pulled her free from the washing machine, pounding away at her in the middle of the floor before pushing her back against another cupboard door, fucked her against that for a few hard seconds, then pulled her away to fuck her free standing in the middle of the kitchen once more. She had stamina, one look at her legs alone would show she worked out and kept in excellent shape, but I could feel her losing the strength in her legs and guessed this kind of frantic fucking wasn't her usual cup of tea.

I looked around for somewhere different to move us to, and saw the patio windows. Still holding on to her with my arms wrapped around her waist, I guided her towards the large windows and pushed her body up flat against them. I realised as I freed my hands that her breasts had freed themselves from their encasement inside her blazer and were now trapped against the glass. Her nipples randomly tracing patterns in their new prison.

"Oh! Cold!" Lynda moaned. "Oh god! What if the neighbours see?" Given the nature of her photos I found it hard to believe she'd hadn't been seen by her neighbours doing something naughty. But I was quite willing to give them a show too. I managed to move my finger in-between her breasts and the glass and started squeezing Lynda's tiny nipples between my fingers, as if they were scissors.

Lynda seemed to have found a second breath, she was now actively pushing against my crotch with her butt, and placing her hands on the patio doors frame for support. It freed her mammoth breasts a little, but ultimately just gave me more leverage to ever more savagely pound away at her amazing pussy.

If I was right about this lottery, Lynda's pussy was far, far tighter than it had any right to be. Maybe this was the proof she only fucking one 'winner' a month. In fact, she seemed to be getting only tighter and tighter now. So tight it reminded me of the one time I had tried to help an FWB lose her anal virginity, but she got scared and screwed up her rectum when I'd barely popped the purple head past her tight ring.

Somehow, Lynda seemed to be able to do the same with her pussy. I figured she must have one hell of a kegal plan.

"How do you like that?" she uttered, looking back towards me. I gave her lips a quick kiss while I fondled her breasts ever harder.

"I'm loving it, keep doing it."

"Do you love it?" The clenching got harder still. It was more like a hand was inside there, gripping me ever more.

"Yes!"

"I can make you cum like this," and again, more tightness.

"Will you cum too?"

"Put your hand over my pussy," I complied. "Feel that? Feel my juices? I don't always squirt when I cum."

I brought my pussy juice soaked hand to my hand and sniffed it, then made Lynda suck on my fingers while I pounded her so more.

"Okay, make me cum!"

And with that, she did. Whatever she was doing down there was suddenly increased tenfold, and it felt like an electric shock struck my balls demanding their empty their load at once. I'd lost track of everything, time had no meaning now, but I could hear screaming and moans, both mine and Lynda's and dear god, if the neighbours hadn't been watching before, they must have been now.